Monty Prussia
by Keii-Saur
Summary: In which cowardly Sir Robin loves tomatoes, Lancelot is actually chivalrous, no one can still remember Gawain, and a certain albino can't seem to count to three.  Oh, and the English have the Holy Grail, go figure.
1. Chapter 1

_**Monty Prussia**_

Genre: Humour/Adventure

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Summary: In which cowardly Sir Robin loves tomatoes, Lancelot is actually chivalrous, no one can still remember Gawain, and a certain albino can't seem to count to three. Oh, and the English have the Holy Grail, go figure.

"Prussia" – Talking

'_Spain' – Thinking_

_**France – Other**_

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia then we wouldn't have our amazing Prussia and Gilbird. Sad, huh? And our beloved Monty Python wouldn't be funny if under my care.

* * *

A/N: Fixed some errors. So, for those who can't tell, there are going to be some alterations to the original Monty Python and the Holy Grail, as characters may become OOC sometimes to adapt to the story. Overall, though, nothing will be much different and hopefully still as entertaining! Just a footnote; this is set in Prussia, as to why it's ironic the English have the Grail. Also, for those who didn't know, Sir Lancelot wasn't as honorable as he's always made out to be; the guy was having an affair with the Queen! (Whose name I forget). And no one ever remembers or even knows of Sir Gawain, who was actually one of the most humble and chivalrous of all the Knights of the Round Table. So guess who plays him ;P

Prussia, the year is 932AD and the usual misty fog rolls over the land. Naught can be seem but a lone pole of wood and tarp and steel and wire and tarp and wood and more tarp and-

**We would like to inform our readers that the narrator has failed his job in a totally un-awesome way and has been stabbed for it. No, we do not SACK people; we STAB them, as is the awesome way. Now, onto our new awesome, but still un-awesome narrator.**

...

**Who has just been stabbed due to lack of overall awesome. Here, we'll leave it to the Asian author who, somehow, has a British accent.**

As the wind gently carried the fog on in a moist sheet, two silhouettes emerged from the hill; the slight clapping of coconu-_horseshoes_ could be heard. As they easily strode on, the man in lead raised his hand and grunted a command to stop. His posture was proud and spoke of awesome. His silver hair flowed easily with the breeze as his crimson eyes dared anyone to defy him. Skin of the palest shade only amplified his confident gaze. From what pale lighting there was, you could catch the glint of an Iron Cross. A sunburst yellow chick chirped from his snowy hair. The tenant/mule trailing behind let out an inaudible sigh, but dutifully followed, seeing as he was pretty awesome but still not awesome enough to be a proper character in this particular story.

Ushering another grunt, the albino man continued on to the distant castle, his pristine white cape flowed epically behind him as his similarly white tunic fluttered softly. Shining silver chainmail adorned his awesome person while rattling at a melodic rhythm. The steady beat of clapping coconu-horseshoes created a soothing song as they reached the castle walls.

"Halt!" The company complied, "Who goes there?" A voice shouted from above.

"It is I, Gilbert, the epitome of awesomeness! King of the Teutonic Knights! Defeater of the Austrians! Sovereign of ALL Prussia!"

"...Who's the other one?" The guard's voice was muffled by distance and the author isn't entirely sure if this is right.

"Huh? Oh, this is my also awesome partner, Gilbird!" Gilbert motioned to the little chick on his head that seemed to ruffle its feathers in pride.

"I meant the guy carryin' all your stuff,"

"Eh, he's not awesome enough to be mentioned really. Anyways, I've ridden over this whole land in search of knights deemed awesome enough to join me in my court of Awesome! I demand to speak to your lord and master!" Yes, because awesomness like him is _allowed_ to demand!

"What? Ridden on a horse?" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"Um, yeah... what of it?"

"You're usin' coconuts!"

"What?"

"You're usin' two empty halves of coconut and you're bangin' 'em together!

"So? It's awesome! Besides, we've been riding since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdoms of France, through-!"

"Where'd you get the coconuts?"

"We found them, duh,"

"Found them? In FRANCE?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"France has a temperate climate; coconuts are tropical!"

"So? Swallows may fly south with the sun, or the house martin or plumber seek warmer climates in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land?"

"Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?"

"Of course not! It could have been carried!"

"What? A swallow carrying a coconut?"

"It could grip it by the husk! Swallows are awesome like that!"

"It's not a question of where it GRIPS it! It's a simple question of weight ratio! A five ounce bird could **not** carry a one pound coconut!"

"That doesn't matter! Will you just tell your master that Gilbert the Awesome is here?"

"Listen, in order to maintain air speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty three times every second, right?"

"C'mon!"

"Am I right?"

"I don't give a crap!"

"It could be carried by an African swallow!" An unseen guard suddenly spoke up.

"Oh yeah, an African swallow, maybe, but not a European swallow that's my point,"

"Oh yeah I agree with that,"

Gilbert was about to pull his hair out. Gilbird chirped in synchronized annoyance.

"Will you just **ask** your master if he wants to join my court of Awesome?"

"...But then, of course, the African swallows are not migratory,"

"Oh yeah," the unseen guard agreed. Gilbert turned back to his lackey and silently signaling for them to just leave. The guards continued.

"So they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway," suddenly, another unseen guard joined in.

"Wait a minute! Supposing two swallows carried it together,"

"No, they'd be out of line," the first guard conversed.

"Oh, simple! You just use a strand of tree bark!"

"What? Held under the dorsal guidance feathers?"

"Well why not?"

At this point, King Gilbert was long gone.

* * *

A triangle chimed dully as a metal faucet pipe struck it. A sickly sweet voice spoke, "Bring out your dead!"

Another dull chime resounded as the words were repeated, "Bring out your dead!"

A low riding platform was being rolled along by three half-dead people. Even more fully dead bodies were piled onto the platform. Yet, no one was fazed and the dull chorus of chimes and chants was repeated by a beige haired man. In an overly large and slightly tattered cloak, he continued the dismal chant with a placid smile upon his pale lips, violet eyes twinkling happily. As the cart continued on, more bodies were being added every now and then as the chants and chimes never changed. The only difference was the moans sounding here and there around the cart. Though not of mourning did these poor people wail.

You could see one man crawling along in a horrid coughing fit, another was too weak to simply pull his head out from a wicker basket. More men crawled along pathetically, tumbling over one another. Eventually, the three men powering the wheelbarrow of bodies collapsed from their own hunger and fatigue, evident in the whole village. Yet, the chant and chimes never changed as another body was added to the pile. The weary men picked themselves up and continued wheeling the pile of bodies onward, wheezing now. They managed to rest as a man came up with another man draped over his shoulder.

This new comer actually seemed relatively well. His chin length blond hair swayed easily, but deep green eyes were dulled slightly with fatigue. Still, he carried himself with pride and a stern look upon his face.

"Here's one; found the moron on my property and got him with my throwing knives. I'm pretty sure no one minds really," he spoke nonchalantly.

"Nine frence," the keeper said sweetly. Suddenly, the 'dead' man spoke.

"I'm not dead!" He shrieked. Chestnut hair swayed frantically as he fervently swung his head side to side, a lone curl on the side bouncing.

"What?" The beige haired keeper asked.

"Oh nothing. Here's your nine frence," the blond replied quickly. The man on his should quickly spoke up again.

"I'm not dead! I want pasta!"

"Hey... he said he's not dead..." a sudden frown found its way to the violet-eyed man.

"Yes he is!" The blond insisted.

"I'm not!" The brunette pleaded.

"He isn't?" The keeper inquired.

"Well, he will be soon, he was stabbed," the blonde's hand with the money was still outstretched.

"I'm getting better!" The carried man supplied.

"No you're not!" The blond hissed back, "You'll be stone dead in a moment!"

"I can't take him like that," the keeper frowned, "it's against regulations,"

"I don't want to go on the cart! Please! I just want pasta!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" The green eyed man snapped.

"I can't take him," the keeper informed again.

"I feel fine!" The brunette insisted.

"Well, do us a favor!" The blond almost pleaded.

"I can't..." the platinum blond sighed.

"Can you make a round in a couple of minutes then? It won't be long," the blond spoke ominously.

"No, I've got to get down to the Robinsons, they lost nine today!" The care free smile was suddenly back on the keeper's face.

"Then when's your next round?" The blond was scowling deeply.

"Thursday,"

"I think I'll go for a walk!" The brunette tried to convince.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know. Look, isn't there something you can do?" The blond sighed, near the end of his patience.

"I'm scared! Waaaah! I'm scared!" The brunette started chanting, the beige keeper stole a few glances around.

**THWACK!**

The keeper knocked the brunette dead with the faucet pipe as the blond quickly averted his eyes to not be a witness.

"Thank you, finally," with that, they loaded the brunette on the cart as well, "See you Thursday."

"Sure!" The violet eyed man chirped happily.

Just then, Gilbert and his lackey quickly passed through, a shudder suddenly running down Gilbert's spine at the sight of the platinum blond and his unnatural smile.

"Who's that?" The golden blond asked after the awesome party had passed.

"Hmm, who knows," the keeper answered vaguely, "Maybe a king?"

"Why?"

"He doesn't have a sickness nor blood splattered all over him," the beige haired man just continued to smile as the golden blond now backed away, feeling he might be joining the cart of dead bodies.

* * *

A/N: …Yes, I had to do the end as Russia, Switzerland and Italy xD Sorry to Italy fans, I love him, too, but Italy was the best fit and Switzerland is always firing at him (had to use knives though). France already has a role here ;P No idea what currency they were using, sorry ._.;

Hope you enjoyed and give me suggestions on roles! Some are already set, but I want to hear your guys' thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

_**Monty Prussia**_

Genre: Humour/Adventure

Rating: T

Pairings: ?

Summary: In which cowardly Sir Robin loves tomatoes, Lancelot is actually chivalrous, no one can still remember Gawain, and a certain albino can't seem to count to three. Oh, and the English have the Holy Grail, go figure.

"Prussia" – Talking

'_Spain' – Thinking_

_**France – Other**_

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia then we wouldn't have our amazing Prussia and Gilbird. Sad, huh? And our beloved Monty Python wouldn't be funny if under my care.

* * *

_Reviews_

(I was so effing happy with how much attention this story was getting! And it's my first with all canon characters!)

AngelFart: First review! And thank you so much! It's hard to compare something's awesomness to Prussia xD; And yes, we (Prussia, Russia, and I) stab people :'D And that's a good idea… but now I'm indecisive…

yolapeoples: Haha~! I love that song! And yeah, well, it's safer for _everyone_ that Vash didn't have guns… and thank you! I'm consulting my Monty Python obsessed friend about the characters and I fit them per my Hetalia knowledge! I think you'll love who plays Sir Robin xD;

Cestrescir: Haha, yeah, I do ^/^ My only free time for writing is away from the computer so I type on the notepad app and then email to myself to copy and edit on Word :3 What's awesome is I'll never get sick of this movie~ So I don't care how many times I have to re-watch it for this xD;

Thank you yolapeoples, ProfessorDoctorToThe3rdPower, unknown82641, Elsing, Cestrescir, Esso, and The-Charcoal-Alchemist for the favourites and alerts, and thanks to anyone who alerts/favourites/reads, even if you don't review!

* * *

A/N: Stupid errors I have to keep fixing. You probably want to kill me for how late this is… I BEG FOR FORGIVENESS! I've had no motivation to watch Monty Python lately since I get too focused on drawing! Well, I dragged myself through listening to that bloody peasant's ranting for you people. And I wasn't sure what character to make him exactly, so I went with Sealand (it's not in my computer dictionary!) because of the whole "equality" thing. Oh god… I had to keep from ripping my ears off. I wanted to use America but… I've got plans for him. Also, spelling and grammar on my laptop have officially been changed to Australian, the form that I first learnt to write under.

* * *

_Recap:_

Just then, Gilbert and his lackey quickly passed through, a shudder suddenly running down Gilbert's spine at the sight of the platinum blond and his unnatural smile.

"Who's that?" The golden blond asked.

"Hmm, who knows," the keeper answered vaguely, "Maybe a king?"

"Why?"

"He doesn't have sickness nor blood splattered all over him," the beige haired man just continued to smile as the golden blond now backed away, feeling he might be joining the cart of dead bodies.

_End Recap

* * *

_

Gilbert continued down the worn pathway over the lush green grassy fields. Of course only the most epic music played in the background. His loyal servant followed as Gilbird viewed from its throne upon the awesome knight's head. Peasants dug at the ground with sticks. Sighting a cart being pulled by a person, the king made haste to stop and question the owner.

"Little girl-_boy!_ Boy! Sorry," the cart slowed, "What knight lives in that castle over there?" Gilbert slowed beside the cart.

"I'm fourteen!" The youth cried indignantly.

"What?" Gilbert couldn't follow the seemingly random outburst.

"I'm fourteen! I'm not little!" He cried, blond hair rustling as he raised his head.

"Well I can't just call you _boy_! It's not awesome!" Gilbert replied in an equally childishly but still dignified voice since he was the awesome-est person/country/knight/being ever to exist.

"Well you could say Peter!" Peter tried glaring, though the result was more childishly cute than threatening.

"I didn't know you were called Peter," Gilbert tried to pacify with an exasperated sigh.

"Well you didn't bother to find out, did you?" Came Peter's snide remark. Gilbert had fleeting thoughts of beheading the boy for being so sarcastic.

"I did say sorry about the little girl, but from behind you looked-"

"Well I object," Peter said in a firm voice, "that you automatically treat me like an inferior!"

"Pfft! I'm King! You're just a peasant, of course I'm better! Besides, I'm awesome," Gilbert puffed his chest with pride.

"Oh, King aye? Very nice, and how'd you get that, aye? By exploiting the workers! By hanging on to our state of imperialist government, we perpetuate the economic and social differences in our society! If there's ever going to be any progress-"

"Peter! There's some lovely filth down here!" Gilbert cringed at the overly sweet voice as a ragged, um, woman he believed?-er, crawled into-the authoress gives up, just _what_ was that scene?

"Ooh, how do you do?" 'Her' sweet voice chimed. Gilbert sucked it up.

"How do you do good-er-lady-"

"L-Lady? I'm a guy! First Peter calls me mom, now you're calling me a girl!" Well, even though his blond hair was too short for a female he was just too… _feminine!_

Gilbert decided to simply continue, "Ahem, I am Gilbert, King of the Prussians!" Gilbert puffed his chest in pride once more as Gilbrid cheeped happily., "whose castle is that?" The albino waved his arm at the far off structure, chainmail clinking.

"King of the who?" The blond asked all to innocently.

"The Prussians," the King replied, only slightly less incredulous. Now, with him, no one and nothing could ever equal his awesome self in anyway.

"Who're the Prussians?" Oh, the cocked head only added to the sweet demeanor.

"Well, we all are; we're all Prussians and I am your King," the sliver haired epitome of awesome almost sounded… hurt at the ignorance. Almost, but of course he wasn't because he was awesome.

"Didn't know we had a King, I thought we were all part of a collective," the blond stated.

"You're fooling yourself," Peter threw some… filth, into a rucksack, "we're living in a dictatorship! Of self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working class-"

"Oh there you go, bringing class into it again," the older blond sighed as both mindlessly piled mud into their bags.

"That's what it's all about!" Peter argued fiercely, "The only people here-"

"_Mein gott!_ Stop it! Listen you un-awesome beings, I am in haste-_who_ lives in that castle?" Gilbert pointed again, trying to contain such un-awesome frustration from hearing these _peasants_ ramble about government and crap even the awesome Gilbert couldn't entirely comprehend (Because, admit it, unless you had gone through government in either high school or in some ungodly early time in your life you were LOST)!

The older of the two blonds glanced over his shoulder and answered somewhat bitterly, "No one lives there…"

Gilbert's astonishment only continued to rise, "Then who is your lord?"

"We don't have a lord," the older blond continued to pile the muck.

"What?"

"I _told_ you!" Peter cut in, "We're an anarchic syndicate commune. We take it in turns to act as assorted executive officers-"

"Oh yes," Gilbert mocked as his chick ruffled its feathers in annoyance.

"But all legislations **of** that officer have to be ratified in a special bi-weekly meeting-"

"Yes I see!" Peter continued his just _too_ **damn** annoying rant.

"By civil majority, in the case of internal civil affairs-"

"Be quiet!" Gilbert hissed.

"-but by a third majority in the case of all-"

"Be quiet! I _order_ you to be quiet!"

"Order us?" The older blond piped up, "Who does he think he is…" he muttered.

"I am your King!" Gilbert argued.

"Well _I_ didn't vote for you," the blond snorted as Peter went back to the grime before him.

"You don't **vote** for King…!" Gilbert just didn't understand the absolute un-awesome _stupidity_ of these annoying peasants!

"Well, how did you become King then?"

"The Lady of the Lake…" a far off look reached the albino's gaze, "Her arms, clad in the purest of shimmering daylight, held aloft Gilbird from the bosoms of the water, signifying by divine sovereignty that, I, Gilbert, was to be sole keeper and tamer of Gilbird. _That_ is why I am your King!" He snapped in finality.

"Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing little yellow baby chicks is no basis for a system of government! _Supreme_ executive power derives from mandate from the masses!" Peter almost whined, "Not from some _farcical_ aquatic ceremony!"

"Be quiet!" Gilbert cut in to no avail.

"You can't expect to wield _supreme_ executive power just because some watery tart threw a chicken at you," Peter aggravatingly continued.

"Will you cut that out!" Gilbird was fingering the hilt of his sword at this point.

"If I went around saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint lobbed a flightless bird at me, they'd put me away!" Prussia menacingly stalked over as the older blond wisely left with his mud at that precise moment.

"Shut up-will you just shut up?" Gilbert had enough and started throttling the young boy.

"Oh! Now we see the violence inherent in the system!"

"Shut up!"

"Quick! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!"

"Bloody peasant-!" Gilbert dropped the-quite rightly put-bloody peasant and decided not to waste his awesome on such a person.

"Oh what a give away-you hear that? You hear that, aye? _That's_ what I'm on about! Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?"

Let's say the authoress took care of the annoying peasant straight after. Idiotic man was so smart that he was a bloody twit. To leave you dear readers with questions to ponder before we, sadly, end, how did 'Peter' even realize Gilbird was the chick? Yellow and fluffy, too! Authoress shall end pointless ramble to avoid being awesomely stabbed. Gilbert says reviews make you awesome and to stay awesome until next scene/chapter-bye!

* * *

A/N: Oh dear god… That was ultimate torture… That scene is _hilarious_ if you manage to understand what they are saying, but that peasant is SO annoying! That's probably the only scene I can't watch over and over… Brain dead, sorry for short chapter. Anyways, due to my overall laziness, I am now planning to collab on this story with a good friend of mine from DeviantArt. She goes by a few names, but her Hetalia account is AssistantInvisible (fff yes, Canada my dearies XD;), no space. Um, I don't know her fanfiction account… I'll ask Mewka what it is later unless a dear reader knows her :'D I really wish I had a script to this movie, but I guess YouTube comments repeating lines are helpful, too X3 It's summer now anyways and I'm super happy from good grades so I hope to be able to do more writing!

Cheerio my lovelies~!


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